


Save Your Tears for When You Really Need to Cry

by RomanoffStroganoff



Category: The Avengers (2012), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Clintasha - Freeform, F/M, I don't know if I'll finish this, I don't like writing in, Mild Blood, third person
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-12
Updated: 2013-07-12
Packaged: 2017-12-19 06:21:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/880457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RomanoffStroganoff/pseuds/RomanoffStroganoff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha feels guilty about her ledger and the fact that Clint Barton made a different call.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Save Your Tears for When You Really Need to Cry

**Author's Note:**

> I really, really hate writing in third person, but this just didn't work in second person, so there you go. I don't know, I may carry on with it, I may not. Depends.
> 
> I'm sorry it sucks. Like I said, third person sucks.

She was never one to sleep with her back against the wall and a gun under the pillow.  
She was never one to wake up every couple of hours in shock, thinking there was someone in the room.  
She was never one to worry about these things.

But that night was different.

Natasha has never been so alert before in her life. She didn’t need to. After all, she was the Black Widow – an assassin of her own kind. She didn’t have to rely on her sight to see or her ears to hear. After all those years of experience, she could predict just about anything.

But not that night.

Natasha turned over to check the time.

Three thirty.  
AM.

She groaned, and turned back to face the room. She was tired, but couldn’t fall asleep in this position. Not until she was relaxed, at least. This took a while.

Soon her thoughts changed to an image of a silhouette, and although it was extremely dark, Natasha could still recognize the figure. It moved closer to her, and by now she knew exactly who it was, and what he was going to do.

His hands wandered around her body.  
His skin seemed rough.

He pulled her closer to himself and began leaving a trail of kisses down her neck. Natasha knew that this was not what one would generally think it was. She knew, however, that now there was no way to fight back, and that she had to let fate happen.

It wasn’t long before her old friend pulled the Russian even closer. Slowly and quietly he pulled out a knife from his pocket, and ran it gently across her back, making her shriek at the cold feeling of sharp metal against her skin.

He kissed her a couple more times, this time a little lower.

Soon, she felt the blade dig into her side, and she cried out with pain.

And then, she was back to reality again – her eyes opened and she sat up immediately, the gun already in her hand, pointing at the figure standing in the door. She was shaking. Badly.

It took her a while to realize who she was seeing.

‘Oh, Clint...’ She moaned, pretending to be okay – just very tired, as she would always say.

‘Nat,’ he started as he cut on the light and sat beside her on the bed.  
‘Don’t call me Nat,’ Natasha snapped.  
Clint sighed and gently grabbed her hand. ‘Tasha.’ He gave her a soft, reassuring smile. She knew by now what this look meant, and she knew he wouldn’t leave her alone.  
She rolled her eyes. ‘Fine,’ she said, standing up to look at him, her voice slightly angry, ‘You killed me. Loki told me you would. And you did.’  
She broke down in tears immediately, burying her face in Clint’s shoulder. He pulled her into a tight hug.

He was silent.

It was all she needed.

\---------------------------------------

‘Hey,’ Natasha heard Clint say when she woke up and rolled over to her side. She looked up at him and smiled weakly. ‘Hey,’ she replied.   
‘I’m gonna go get some food, you want anything?’ He asked fetching his coat. She shook her head slightly. ‘I’m good,’ she said.

The smile on her face faded as she watched Clint walk out the door. As soon as she heard the main door shut, she knew he was gone.

He’d be back soon, though, and Natasha would go back to pretending – pretending that everything is alright, that she’s not hurting, that she’s not broken.

But the Black Widow couldn’t take this any longer.

She crawled out of bed – there was no energy in her at all.

Soon she was in the bathroom, looking at herself in the mirror.

What a disgrace.

Her hand met the glass of the mirror, and with great power, it shattered into pieces, leaving Natasha with a critically bloody fist. She fell to her knees and cried out loud.  
It took her a few minutes to quiet down, and when she did, she rushed to find her gun.

Natasha, the Black Widow, was only one shot away from peace.

Leaning against the wall, she once again weakly fell to the floor. The gun was held in her bloody, shaking hand, and was pointed in her direction.

She was so close.

Her ledger was dripping red, and when she was meant to be killed herself, her life was spared.  
The guilt was eating her on the inside.  
If Clint couldn’t do it, then she sure as hell could.

But then the door opened.


End file.
